


heavydirtysoul

by bags_of_luck



Category: B.A.P
Genre: M/M, Romance, banghim, but bang is still so in love, pretty angsty, slight hints of body image issues, slight mentions of smut if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9092710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bags_of_luck/pseuds/bags_of_luck
Summary: Himchan doesn’t think he is beautiful, and Yongguk knows this. And since Yongguk is not one for many words, he doesn’t know how to tell Himchan that everything he thinks about himself is wrong.





	

Himchan doesn’t think he is beautiful, and Yongguk knows this. Many a night, with a thin sheet drawn up to his bare chest, he watches Himchan look at himself in the mirror with an expression of barely concealed disdain. He sees Himchan run his hands over the softness of his pale abdomen, his not slender enough hips and rounded thighs, and when his eyes meet Yongguk’s in the reflection, Yongguk sees that they are drowning pools of woefulness. After every such episode, Himchan doesn’t really look at Yongguk, not even when he slides into bed and Yongguk rests his chin tenderly on the top of his head with a knowing ache in his left breast.

And since Yongguk is not one for many words, he doesn’t know how to tell Himchan that everything he thinks about himself is wrong, though he genuinely wishes he could.

Yongguk is no stranger to praise, having been called charismatic, stunning, talented, and a jumble of other compliments that hardly mean much to him. But beneath all that, he knows that he is a man of many sins. While others see beauty in his ruggedness, there are days when he feels downright gruesome, consumed by the roughness of his thoughts and emotions. It is this unshakeable grittiness he feels under his skin that makes it almost hard to believe that night after night, the incarnation of the most magnificent angels roaming the heavens can be found in his bed.

Yongguk thinks Himchan’s beauty is not something to be seen, but rather, something felt on a dimension too deep within himself to even comprehend. He feels it on nights when Himchan is undressed, undone, fingers twisted in the sheets and head thrown back so far that the veins in his neck bloom into existence. He thinks that if he captures this moment on a polaroid film, he’ll spend the rest of his life using it as proof that a God exists, that despite his wasted soul, he still is in possession of the most blessed thing of all. 

There had been a night where Himchan had looked at him with too much softness in his eyes and Yongguk found that he could no longer hold his own open. He felt tangled in threads of imperfection and flaws and crushing vices, but Himchan had placed his hand on his cheek, thumb brushing his cheekbone, and Yongguk suddenly felt more exhausted than anything else. Himchan did not say anything when afterwards, Yongguk embraced him tighter than usual, and raw tears slipped between the crevices of their warm faces pressed together.

Yongguk knows that Himchan thinks of himself as not beautiful, but he does not know how to tell him that he exists beyond arbitrary standards of blind appeal. To Yongguk, Himchan is the salve to his bruised soul, the only one who can turn him inside out and back again and still find something new to love, the reason why he forces himself to wake up every morning even though it gets harder day by day, just so he can swim in the tenderness of the other’s eyes that feel closer to home than anything else ever had. Himchan is home, and sometimes home isn’t pristine gracefulness and solid pillars, but it’s comforting enough that Yongguk will always want it.

The next night, Himchan looks in the mirror again with the familiar brooding expression that makes it harder for Yongguk to breathe. This time, he silently slips up behind him and places both hands on his shoulders, gently tearing Himchan’s gaze away from the mirror. Yongguk isn’t a man of many words, but perhaps his eyes have learnt to speak on his behalf, because Himchan seems to understand.

They stand there, embracing, for an immeasurably long time, neither wishing to break apart and shatter the quiet intimacy of the moment. Yongguk feels this redemption deep in his chest, burning on every inch of skin that Himchan is touching, and he hopes that Himchan feels the same vein of salvation too.


End file.
